


God Only Knows (What I'd Be Without You)

by applesofthemoon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Castration, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, Erogenous dick scar smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm going to make that a tag if it kills me, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutilation, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Strap-Ons, Therapy, Underage Drinking, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applesofthemoon/pseuds/applesofthemoon
Summary: If you should ever leave meThough life would still go on, believe meThe world could show nothing to meSo what good would living do me?A short series of post-Ramsay Throbb ficlets set in a modern AU. Some fluff, some angst, some (actually quite a bit of) smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of working on my Theyne longfic, I decided to write fic for a ship I don't necessarily ship, from a POV I've never written before, because...I like erogenous dick scar smut? I shame myself, but it's true. It's not like "realism" is a major selling point of most smutfic, anyway.
> 
> AND, I feel like there's not a lot of Throbb fic out there that explores their relationship post-Ramsay. I mean, of course there's not, since canonically Robb dies while Theon's still Ramsay's prisoner, but there's plenty of modern AU Throbb fic where Robb's alive and well and Ramsay was never in the picture. I wanted to come at it in a way that acknowledges the trauma without dwelling on it; that is to say, this is not going to be five installments of Theon crying and Robb consoling him. When you or someone you love is hurt badly, life changes irreversibly, but you go on living.
> 
> Listen to the titular Beach Boys song [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkPy18xW1j8)

Theon studies his reflection in Robb’s full-length mirror. “I look like I’m going to a funeral.”

Robb sits at the foot of the bed, Grey Wind stretched across the comforter beside him. Theon turns and reaches out to the dog. “What do you think, bud?”

Grey Wind sniffs Theon’s hand, but offers no opinion on his outfit. Robb scratches the dog between the ears and says, “Try the grey. It’ll bring out your eyes.”

Theon makes a face. “Great. I’ll get my headshots taken afterward.”

He shrugs off the black suit jacket and puts on the grey one, smoothing it down with both hands. Looking at him, Robb is pleased with his own handiwork. Buying a suit is generally done with the intended wearer of the suit present, and going off measurements alone was a gamble. But it paid off: Theon looks good. Certainly better than he would look in his old suit, which he could wear over a heavy sweater and still have breathing room.

“You know I could come with you tomorrow,” Robb says, “if you want.”

“You’ve got class,” Theon reminds him.

“I can skip it.”

“Well, after class there’s work.”

“I’ll call in sick. If you want.”

Theon sighs. “Robb, I can’t think of anything I want _less_ than for you to be in that courtroom, listening while I talk about…” He stops, grimaces, and refocuses on the mirror. “The grey it is,” he decides. “You can take the other one back.”

He takes off the jacket and lets Robb help him unbutton his dress shirt. Rather, he lets Robb unbutton the shirt for him, which is good. It would be a struggle for him with his missing fingers, and besides, Robb likes being helpful. He wishes he could help more. “We should plan something fun for after,” he says. “Something to look forward to.”

“Maybe,” Theon says, but Robb knows he means _probably not._ Robb can hope, but in all likelihood Theon won’t be in any shape to do anything but come home and crash after court. “Or we could do something fun right now.” Theon grins and hooks his index finger through one of the belt loops on Robb’s jeans.

Robb kisses him, cupping the back of his head with one hand. They buzzed his hair down to nothing in the hospital, but it’s growing in nicely, thick and black and soft as anything Robb has ever touched. He rakes his fingers through it, feeling Theon shiver as his nails scritch over his scalp. “Time’s it?” Robb says against his lips. Theon answers with another kiss, and Robb has to force himself to turn his head and look at the clock. “Shit. Econ starts in ten minutes.”

He gives Theon a quick peck on the jaw, then ducks past him to grab his shoes. Theon scoffs and flops backward onto the bed, his unbuttoned dress shirt falling open around him. “So that’s how it is,” he says. “You’ll skip to go to court with me, but not to make out with me.”

“That’s how it is,” Robb agrees.

––

When Robb brought Theon home from the hospital, they were halfway through the door before it occurred to Robb to worry about Grey Wind. That is, about Theon and Grey Wind. Robb didn’t know a lot about the guy who took Theon, but the news reports said there were dogs on his property. What if Theon couldn’t handle having one around the house? He could have taken Grey Wind to his parents’ place, he thought, or asked Jon to keep him for awhile. He _would_ have, if he weren’t such a shortsighted asshole.

Grey Wind came trotting up to them in the entryway, and Theon crouched to rub his ears. _Hey, buddy,_ he said. _Miss me?_

 _Are you okay?_ Robb asked. _With him?_

Theon looked up at him as he tousled the fur on the dog’s neck. _Do I look like I’m okay with him?_

These days, the only thing Robb worries about when it comes to Grey Wind is that he seems to like Theon better than he likes Robb. Theon feeds him and takes him for walks, and when Theon sits up at night in front of the TV, Grey Wind sprawls out on top of him like a living lap blanket. The night before Theon is due in court, Robb gets home from his afternoon shift at the athletic center to find him and Grey Wind on the couch, watching a rerun of _My Strange Addiction._

“Dinner,” Robb announces, waving a McDonald’s bag in the air. “Get it while it’s hot.”

Theon pushes Grey Wind off of him and comes to the table in the apartment’s little kitchen, where Robb is unloading boxes of burgers and fries. Robb’s mother will have a coronary if she ever finds out how they eat, but Theon’s doctor gave him carte blanche to eat anything he likes, so long as he puts on weight, and fast food is what Theon likes.

Theon eats quickly, like he’s afraid to be caught at it, so they don’t really talk during dinner. When he’s through, Theon tips his chair against the wall and starts feeding Grey Wind his leftover fries. “I was thinking,” he says. “We should go away. Take a vacation.”

Robb blinks, surprised. Theon won’t go to the mall to shop for a suit, but he wants to pack up and leave town? That doesn’t add up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Theon says. “Soon. Like, tomorrow.” 

Robb gives him a long look. “Yeah, okay,” he says, nodding slowly. “We can do that.”

Theon rocks forward in his chair. Its front legs hit the floor with a _bang._ “How can you say that?” he demands. “How can you just––you’re supposed to say _no._ You’re supposed to say _you have to be there tomorrow, because you said you would be, because you’re the only one who_ can _be._ You’re supposed to say _you have to be there for the girls._ ” He jerks to a stand. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m a stupid, selfish prick.”

Robb stares up at him. “Okay,” he says. “You’re a stupid, selfish prick.”

Theon exhales heavily. “ _Thank_ you.”

He comes around to Robb’s side of the table and leans down to press their mouths together, steadying himself with a hand on the back of Robb’s chair. Robb feels him trembling and reaches up to stroke his cheek. “Come here,” he murmurs.

Theon lowers himself into Robb’s lap, kissing him all the time. Robb pushes his hands up the back of Theon’s shirt, feeling his ribs and the roughness of his scars, the burns and cuts and lashes. He hates those scars, but they’re part of Theon now, and he loves Theon. He loves that Theon is _here,_ alive, on top of him, breathing short fluttery breaths as Robb sucks at his lower lip. It still feels kind of like a miracle.

Now Theon’s getting up again, digging a bottle of olive oil out of the cabinet by the stove. He wriggles out of his pants and briefs and climbs back into Robb’s lap, a lopsided smirk on his lips. A moment later, those lips are searing Robb’s skin, kissing hotly down his neck. Robb’s cock jumps and he grabs for the oil. He shakes some out onto his fingers, then reaches down to slide them between Theon’s ass cheeks, to rub them over his hole. Hissing, Theon grinds down into the touch. The knobs of his knees dig into Robb’s thighs, but Robb barely notices the pain.

He gives Theon one finger, then another, feeling his body clench and pulse around them. He flexes and curls them until he finds the spot that makes Theon squirm and sigh, his breath tickling Robb’s neck. Robb likes that, so he touches that spot again, and again, working it with both fingers and getting all sorts of sweet sounds in return. When at length he stops and slips his fingers out, Theon gives a disappointed whine, but he changes his tune in a hurry at the rasp of Robb’s zipper. 

Theon’s writhing and mewling already has Robb’s cock aching hard, and he can’t get it out of his briefs or inside of Theon fast enough. By the time he’s fully sheathed, he’s panting, bracing himself on the back of the chair. He arches his back and moans as Theon begins to move, taking him deep and shallow in turns. Nothing, Robb thinks, _nothing_ could ever feel as good as this, as the slick warmth of Theon’s body closing around him again and again, as Theon’s fingers winding themselves into his hair. They tighten and pull, hard, and Robb leans forward to lick up the side of Theon’s neck.

Theon’s other hand is between his legs, his fingers pressed against the ridge of scar tissue where his cock used to be. His breath hitches when Robb cups his balls and squeezes. Then he replaces Theon’s fingers with his thumb, rubbing firmly up and down, and Theon _shakes_ with pleasure. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck. Robb. _Please._ ”

Robb wraps his free arm around his middle and pulls him to his chest, grunting in exertion as he thrusts up into him. He doesn’t know what _please_ means, exactly–– _please keep touching me,_ or _please make me come,_ or _please don’t let me go_ ––but whatever Theon is asking for, he wants to give it to him. He wants to make him forget everything beyond this chair, this moment, this feeling. He wants to fill him so full that there’s no room for anything else. 

They come almost in unison, not out of sheer synchronicity, but because Robb’s waited so long for Theon to finish first that he comes the instant after Theon does. Afterward, his head lolls onto the chair back, and for awhile he just sits gazing blankly at the ceiling. He can feel Theon’s chest heaving against his, both of them breathing as if they have only so much time in which to do it. Technically, he figures, there _is_ only so much time.

The world spins when Robb lifts his head, but then there’s Theon, and everything falls into stillness around his face. “You’re not a stupid prick,” Robb tells him.

Theon smiles. “Charmer.”

—

The next morning, Robb and Theon pull up outside the courthouse at five minutes to eight. Before he lets Theon go, Robb gives him the once-over. He looks thin and tired, but he _is_ thin and tired, and the suit, at least, is just right.

“You want me to park and walk you in?” Robb asks.

“No,” Theon says. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Robb cranes across the center console to kiss Theon’s cheek. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Theon gets out of the car, taking the cane he uses when he has to walk further than the few steps it takes to cross their apartment. Robb watches through the passenger window as he shuffles up the sidewalk and into the building. Then he pulls down on the gear shift and drives away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lullaby and goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is very, very, very much bookverse (as you may be able to tell from the fact that it's not even tagged GoT), but I have done that thing a lot of fic authors do where they rejigger Robb and Theon's canonical ages to bring them closer together. As you'll see in the following chapter.

Theon’s father had more or less washed his hands of him even before he disappeared, but when it was time for him to leave the hospital, his sister volunteered to take him in. She was done with school, working full-time, and she and her boyfriend had a two-bedroom townhouse five minutes’ walk from a bus stop, so Theon could get to his appointments on his own. It was all set, until it wasn’t.

The day before Theon’s release, Robb showed up at the hospital and refused to leave until Theon agreed to come home with him instead of Asha. _Please, Theon,_ he said. _I’ll beg if I have to._

Theon smiled at him, showing off the brand-new set of dental implants that had replaced his broken teeth. _Best get on your knees, then._

Robb wanted Theon at home with him, felt that he belonged there. He still feels that way. Sometimes, though, he wonders if Theon might be better off with Asha. Asha wouldn’t let him hole up at home while she went out and bought him a suit. Asha wouldn’t let him eat so much crap, or stay up watching TV night after night. He has trouble sleeping, which is understandable, but he also has a bottle full of sleeping pills that he won’t take. Asha, Robb thinks, would make him take them. 

Sure, they’ve talked about it. At least, Robb’s tried to talk about it. He’s tried asking, cajoling, and reasoning. Once, he made the mistake of threatening to grind the pills up and hide them in Theon’s food, resulting in a blowout fight after which Theon refused to eat anything at all for two days. In the end, none of it’s done any good. Theon sleeps only in increments of a few hours, usually on the couch, during the day. Robb worries, quietly. 

One night, Robb, Theon, and Grey Wind are all piled onto the couch, watching a DVD Robb came across while looking for his copy of _The Big Lebowski._ It was one his parents gifted him for his high school graduation, a compilation of home movies documenting his life to that point. Cheesy, but good for a laugh. Onscreen at the moment is Robb’s eighth birthday party, a pool party in his parents’ backyard. A bunch of kids crowd around the table on the patio and sing _Happy Birthday to You_ , making eight-year-old Robb blush and squirm. He was never entirely comfortable being the center of attention.

Theon was a different story. After Robb blows out his candles, the video cuts out and resumes at a new angle. They’re looking at the in-ground pool, and a ten-year-old Theon scrambling up the giant oak tree beside it. “Robb, watch me!” he yells. “Are you watching?”

He stands up on a branch maybe eight feet above the water, his back pressed to the tree’s trunk. His hair is wet, plastered to his head, and he’s wearing black board shorts with red and orange flames licking up each side. “Theon, you get down from there this instant,” says Robb’s mother. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Look at me, I’m Iron Man!” Theon says, ignoring her.

“Iron Man doesn’t climb trees,” Robb says critically from behind the camera.

“Theon, when your father finds out what you—“

“Of course he doesn’t climb trees, stupid,” Theon says. “He _flies._ ”

He takes a few wobbly steps out onto the tree branch and pitches head-first through the air, landing with a _splash_ in the deep end of the pool. Shouts of delight and dismay ring out from the kids and Robb’s mother, respectively. “That was totally wicked!” Robb cries. The camera shakes as he sets it down on a chair, and they see him run to the edge of the pool. Then the screen goes black.

The next segment shows Robb’s family on vacation in Disney World. As it plays, Robb looks over at Theon and chuckles. “You were such a little shit,” he says.

“‘Were’?” Theon’s smile is brief and close-lipped. He pauses the DVD and says, “You should get to bed. Early shift tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.” Robb doesn’t really want to go to bed alone, but what else is new? He shoves Grey Wind’s back end off his lap and gets up off the couch. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Robb brushes his teeth, strips down to a beater and boxers, and climbs into bed. Lying there, looking up at the ceiling, he can hear the murmur of the TV from the living room. Luckily, he’s not the sort of person who can only sleep in complete silence. It would almost be funny, he thinks, if _he_ were the one who couldn’t sleep.

He sleeps, and as he sleeps he dreams. In the dream, he’s a kid again, at his eighth birthday party in his parents’ backyard. Mom is cutting the cake. It’s a yellow cake, with a layer of chocolate chip ice cream inside. While he waits for a piece, Robb wanders away from the patio table and looks into the pool. It’s empty, and at the bottom lies a ten-year-old boy in flame-print board shorts. _Theon?_ Robb says. Theon doesn’t move. A thin line of blood snakes out of his nose and down his cheek. _Theon!_

Robb runs to his mother. _Theon’s hurt,_ he says desperately. _He needs help._

He brings her to the pool’s edge and looks in again. Theon is still there, but now he’s grown up, and someone has cut off his nose and all his fingers. There’s blood everywhere. _You can’t help him,_ Mom says. When Robb looks up at her, she’s as tall as the sky, so far away. 

_You can’t help him._

He wakes with a start, breathing hard. The door creaks and a shaft of bluish light stretches across the carpet. “Are you okay?” Theon asks. “You said my name in your sleep.”

Robb sighs and rolls over onto his back. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine.”

“Bad dream?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well you didn’t sound, like, happy.”

Theon comes in and shuts the door, darkening the room again. Robb hears his footfalls moving toward the bed. Then he feels the mattress bow beneath his weight. They’re quiet, just breathing, being together in the dark. Robb closes his eyes, but can’t get the image of Theon lying bloody at the bottom of his parents’ pool to leave his head. He wonders how long it’ll last. 

“I wish you would sleep with me,” he murmurs, tracing a finger up Theon’s arm.

Theon stiffens. “Robb––”

“I like waking up with you here.”

Robb falls back asleep faster than he thought he would, and doesn’t wake again until sunlight turns his eyelids translucent. The next thing that registers, after the sunlight, is a warm and distinctly pleasant feeling between his thighs. It’s not just morning wood, either. Something wet and eager is suctioned to his cock, sliding smoothly up and down. Robb reaches down with one hand and finds Theon’s head, his hair, still too short to make a proper handhold, but long enough for Robb to comb his fingers through as he rocks up into Theon’s mouth.

There’s a pop and the sensation of cool air on his cock, and he opens his eyes to see Theon grinning up at him. “This what you meant?” he asks, and swallows him back down again, making Robb moan.

“You _are_ a little shit,” he says. Theon laughs, sending little vibrations through Robb’s cock, and Robb can only moan again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When our loved ones suffer, we suffer, too.

Robb and Theon keep their schedules on a dry-erase calendar in the kitchen, each with a different marker. In red marker are Robb’s classes, his shifts at the athletic center, and a handful of other things––family dinners, friends’ parties, application dates for Grey Wind’s flea and tick medicine. The blue marker is for Theon’s appointments. Doctor’s appointments, to check his weight and overall health; dentist appointments, to make sure his implants are functioning properly; and therapy appointments, Tuesdays and Thursdays at two o’clock.

Robb drives him to all of them, since Theon gets nervous behind the wheel and they only have the one car, anyway. He does a lot of homework in this waiting room and that, and finds the best shopping centers near Theon’s doctors’ offices. One afternoon, he picks up some batteries and Scotch tape and pulls into the parking lot outside the therapist’s office at two-thirty, expecting to have some time to kill before Theon turns up. Then he sees him on a bench by the front doors. He’s just sitting there, waiting, his cane propped against the bench beside him.

“Hey,” Robb says when he gets into the car. “You finish up early?”

“More like finished up for good,” Theon says. “I fired Dr. Rowan.”

Robb stops short. “What? Why?”

“I hate her. I hate all that head-shrinky garbage. She’s always, y’know, ‘tell me more, tell me more’––well, I told her I’m done. Out.”

“You didn’t want to think it over first?”

“Nope,” Theon says plainly. “Can we go to Chick-fil-A? I would fucking kill for a milkshake.”

Robb takes him to Chick-fil-A, at a loss for what else to do. Afterward, he drops Theon at the apartment and heads to campus for his four o’clock shift at the athletic center. He sits at a card table outside the workout room and checks people’s student IDs before signing them in. It’s not busy, and he tries to catch up on the reading for Poli Sci, but his head is like a sieve; the words pass through it and into nothingness before he gets to the end of the page. Instead, he turns his chair around and watches TV through the glass doors to the workout room. 

Shortly after five, he tells his supervisor he’s got a migraine and takes off. He’s not a hundred percent sure where he’s going until he’s there, turning into the parking lot and getting out of the car. He goes into the office building, glances at the directory in the lobby, and takes the stairs to the third floor.

He catches her just as she’s locking up her suite, her bag slung over her shoulder. “Dr. Rowan?” he says.

“That’s me.” She’s a youngish woman, tall, with thick red-brown hair barely contained by a ponytail holder. She regards Robb quizzically, though not unkindly. “Have we met?”

“I’m Robb Stark.” He’s not sure if he should shake and his hands feel suddenly conspicuous at his sides, so he stuffs them into his pockets.

“Ah,” Dr. Rowan says. “You’re Theon’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah. Listen, I want to apologize for him. Whatever he did, whatever he said––he didn’t mean it. He was probably just, you know, in a mood.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Dr. Rowan says calmly. “Theon told me he’s decided to discontinue our sessions. I told him that I respect his wishes and that my door is always open if he changes his mind.” 

“Okay, but he didn’t know what he was saying. He can’t just _quit therapy,_ he needs––” Robb stops, swallows. “I try to help him,” he says, “but I can’t do it alone.”

Dr. Rowan gives him a long look. “Robb,” she says, “have you thought about going to therapy yourself?”

He blinks. “Me? No. I mean, nothing happened to me.”

“Didn’t it? When our loved ones suffer, we suffer, too.” 

_Suffering._ The word seems at once too heavy and too light to describe the mutation of Robb’s and Theon’s lives in the past thirteen months. “I’m sorry,” Robb says, feeling...naked, somehow, almost ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m glad you did. It was good to meet you.” Dr. Rowan smiles. “I’ve got to get going, but I hope you’ll think about what I said. Give me a call if you want a referral. Theon has my number.”

There’s only one way in and out of the building, so they leave together, riding the elevator in silence. Outside, Robb squints in the red-gold light of the late afternoon. “Have a good night, Robb,” Dr. Rowan says.

––

The night Theon was on the news, Robb was with Jon, drinking some beer Jon had snagged from his half-sister Rhae. It was a Saturday in November, at the end of the first really cold week of the season. They were at Robb’s apartment, sitting on the couch and watching _First Blood._

Robb loved _First Blood_. He and Jon used to spend hours playing Rambo in Robb’s backyard, racing around peppering each other with Nerf darts, Dad’s ties wrapped around their heads. Sometimes, Theon would join in. Other times, he’d sit in the tire swing that hung from the oak tree and make fun of them for acting like babies, playing make-believe. _If we’re such babies, why d’you hang out with us?_ Robb would say. _Yeah, go home, Theon,_ Jon would add. _I will,_ Theon would answer, but he never did.

_It’s still early,_ Jon said when the movie ended. _We could do something else._

_Like what?_ Robb asked.

_We could go out._

Robb shrugged. _Sure._

_Okay. Where do you wanna go?_

Robb stood an empty beer bottle on his thigh, rubbing his thumb along its lip. _What?_

_Where should we go?_ Jon said.

Robb blinked. _Are we going somewhere?_

Jon sighed. _On second thought, I should get home. Ghost’ll be wanting a piss before bed._ He stood up and put on his shoes and coat. Before he left, he clapped Robb on the shoulder and said, _Take care of yourself, man._

Robb knew what Jon thought––what everyone thought, but were too nice to say. They thought this was just a bad breakup. They thought Theon had gotten bored and run off in search of greener pastures, maybe with a girl or some other guy. They felt sorry for Robb, dropped like a hot potato without so much as a goodbye, but they wished he’d buck up and move on.

He flipped the TV to the cable input and caught the eleven o’clock news in mid-story. _...arrived at the Wolfswood police station early this morning, malnourished and suffering moderate frostbite._ The newscaster was a dark-skinned woman in a white shirt, wearing a serious look on her pretty face. As she spoke, the screen filled with fuzzy footage of a pale-haired man draped in a police-issue jacket, being escorted out of a building and bundled into an ambulance. _The man identified himself as Theon Greyjoy, a local college student reported missing eight months ago._

Now the TV showed a picture of Theon, smiling in his easy, confident way. Robb knew that picture. It was half of a selfie they had taken together on a beach trip a few weeks before Theon disappeared. _Greyjoy claims to have been held captive on a secluded estate near the Weeping Water river. His alleged kidnapper may also have been involved in the recent disappearances of several area women._ Pictures of four women replaced Theon’s picture onscreen. Like him, they were young, healthy, happy. _More on the investigation as it develops._

Robb’s phone buzzed with an incoming call, but he didn’t pick up. When he looked at his lockscreen, he saw the missed call and a text, both from his mother. _Did you see the news?_ she had written. Shortly after the first text came another: _Call me._

He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t know what to do, what to feel. All he could think was, _I’ve had this dream before._

––

Robb finds Theon slung across the couch, his Chick-fil-A cup standing empty on the coffee table. He’s watching a police procedural––which one, Robb’s not immediately sure. “You’re back early,” Theon says.

“Yeah.” Theon sits up, making room for Robb on the couch beside him. On the TV, a pair of detectives are interviewing a tearful middle-aged woman about her daughter’s murder. When the scene ends, the show cuts to commercial, and Robb says, “I went to see Dr. Rowan.”

“Wh––just now?” Theon says, surprised. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could get her to take you back.”

Theon eyes Robb suspiciously. “What did she say?”

“She said _I_ ought to go to therapy.”

Robb expects Theon to laugh at that, or roll his eyes. _Serves you right,_ he might say. Instead, he nods. “Probably not a bad idea.” His head drops onto the couch back and he looks cockeyed up at Robb. “I mean, it can’t be easy, dealing with me and my bullshit.” 

There’s a tightness in Robb’s chest, as if his ribs are hugging his lungs just a little too hard. He pulls Theon’s hand into his lap and laces their fingers. It’s Theon’s right hand, so it’s only Robb’s pinky that’s left partnerless, curled over the stump where Theon’s once was. “Worth it, though.”

Theon grins. “Because the sex is so good, right?”

“Because I love you, you jackass.” Robb returns his smile. “ _And_ because the sex is good.” Theon laughs, and Robb gives his hand a squeeze. “Let's make a deal,” he says. “I’ll have my head shrunk if you will. It doesn’t have to be with Dr. Rowan. I think we have that list still, the one they gave us at the hospital.”

Theon sighs. “I don’t really hate Dr. Rowan,” he says. “It’s just...sometimes I just want to pretend to be normal again.”

A laundry list of reassurances leaps to Robb’s tongue: _Theon, you_ are _normal; nobody’s normal, not really; normal is overrated._ He swallows them all down and lifts Theon’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He wants to be normal again too. “I know,” he says.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon gets a buzz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two chapters are just porn. Enjoy.

Theon said he was okay with being tied up. He said it felt like home. That hit Robb hard, almost hard enough for him to abandon the plan altogether, but Theon swore up and down that he would speak up if he was even the least bit uncomfortable, and Robb decided to trust him. How surreal is that? Theon is bound at Robb’s mercy, and _Robb_ has to trust _him._

At the moment, though, he’s not what you would call worried about it. At the moment, he’s not worried about anything. His whole world is the taste of Theon, the smell of Theon, the weight of Theon’s thighs on his shoulders. He would probably have Theon’s hands in his hair, too, if they weren’t tied to the posts of the bed with silk scarves. That being the case, all Theon can do is hold his legs open and arch into Robb’s mouth, into the hot wet tongue smoothing along the scar just above his balls.

This isn’t the Big Idea, but it feels like a pretty good one. It’s rare that Theon lets Robb go down on him, and Robb couldn’t _not_ take advantage of his captive audience. He _likes_ doing this, more than Theon seems to think he should. He likes kissing and licking the sensitive tissue between Theon’s legs, making his hips jerk and his voice break. He likes it almost as much as he used to like swallowing Theon’s cock.

It’s better not to think about Theon’s cock, though, so he doesn’t. Instead, he pries Theon’s legs further apart, spits on his scar, and sucks until Theon’s whole body is taut and quivering. “Robb,” he whines, “fuck, Robb, _stop._ ”

Robb obeys, reluctantly. “That’s not your safeword.”

“I know, I meant—I’m—I don’t want to come before the, uh, main event.”

“Why?” Robb wraps an arm around Theon’s thigh and slips the thumb of his free hand behind his balls, rubbing his perineum, making him twist uselessly in Robb’s hold. “It’s not like we’ll have to wait for you to get it up again.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Theon says, but then Robb’s mouth is on him again, and he’s moaning and pulling at his bonds so hard Robb can hear the headboard creak. It’s barely a minute before he gasps and stiffens, his balls drawing up against his body. Robb licks him through his orgasm, tasting the salt of his come, stopping only when he’s still and clean. 

It isn’t like it used to be, but it’s not bad for what it is. When Theon told Robb he wasn’t a man anymore—his words, not Robb’s, never Robb’s—Robb resigned himself to a sexless existence. He knew the rules of anatomy; he knew that as long as you had your family jewels, so to speak, you should be able to get horny, to _want_ sex. But what good were the jewels without the scepter? And regardless of what he might be able to want, Robb wouldn’t have blamed Theon if he couldn’t stand to be touched ever again.

Then one day, Robb came home from class to find Theon asleep on the couch, lying on his back with his hands tucked under his arms. Robb crept into his room and did some homework with his headphones in. When he took a break to get a drink from the kitchen, he stepped lightly, thinking that if he was quiet enough, he could avoid waking Theon, who so needed his sleep.

But Theon wasn’t asleep. He was lying on the couch with his eyes shut, but he definitely wasn’t asleep. Standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the living room, Robb saw the hand pushed down the front of Theon’s sweats, the gentle undulation of Theon’s wrist. He saw the way Theon’s lips twitched, like they once had when Robb stroked his cock. He understood, and in understanding he drew a sharp breath.

Too sharp a breath. Theon heard him, and his eyes snapped open wide. _I didn’t know you were home,_ he blurted.

_I didn’t know you were awake,_ Robb answered.

Theon took his hand away and sat up, staring at his lap. Robb sat on the coffee table in front of him. _You like it,_ he said. _You like being touched there._ He ducked his head, trying to catch Theon’s eye. _Why didn’t you say something?_

Theon still wouldn’t look at him. _It’s weird,_ he said. _It’s gross._

_Let me see._

Theon’s jaw clenched. He shook his head.

_Okay,_ Robb conceded, _then let me feel._ He put a hand on Theon’s knee. _Just for a few seconds._ No reply. _Theon? I won’t if you don’t want me to._

Theon took him by the wrist and brought his hand into his sweats, under the waistband of his briefs. He bit his lip as Robb’s fingers traced the length of his scar, raised like a line of embroidery in fabric. It didn’t feel like something terrible, Robb thought, even though it marked the place where something terrible had happened. It just felt like a scar.

Robb wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and crawls to the head of the bed. “How are we doing?” he asks.

“We’re good,” Theon says, still a little breathless. “We want to know what the big surprise is.”

“You will.” Robb checks the knots at Theon’s wrists, making sure there’s a finger’s worth of wiggle room on either side. “Are your arms hurting? Do you need a break?”

“Um, no, but my mouth hurts a little. I think I bit my tongue.” Theon flashes him a grin. “Kiss it better?”

Robb chuckles and takes the bait, bending to interlock their mouths. Theon kisses back enthusiastically, undeterred by the taste of his come on Robb’s tongue. Robb is pleased that he still seems to have plenty of energy. He’s going to need it. 

And he wants to know what the surprise is, so Robb decides it’s time to show him. He gets up off the bed, goes to the dresser, and takes something out of the bottom drawer. After fiddling briefly with the outlet between the bed and the nightstand, he climbs back onto the bed and lets Theon see his Big Idea.

The look on Theon’s face––equal parts excited and intimidated––tells Robb he knows what it is, but he asks anyway. “It’s a vibrator,” Theon answers.

“It’s a special vibrator,” Robb corrects him. “They call it a Magic Wand.”

“Magic, huh? What does that make you, Harry Potter?”

Robb smiles. “You can call me that if you want.”

He lies down on his side next to Theon and starts kissing him again, licking his way into the sweet warmth of his mouth. Theon is somewhat less focused this time around, but he makes an admirable attempt at participation. Mid-kiss, Robb flips the switch on the wand’s handle to _on_ and lets the head rest lightly on Theon’s stomach, so he can feel the strength of the vibrations before they hit him where it counts. He makes a noise into Robb’s mouth, sounding startled at first, then annoyed.

“Tease,” he complains, nipping at Robb’s lower lip. 

Robb replies by lowering the vibrator until Theon exhales with gut-punched suddenness, his body thrusting upward as if pulled by an invisible wire. “Fuck,” he murmurs, screwing his eyes shut tight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

From there, it’s easy. All Robb has to do is keep the vibrator pressed against Theon’s crotch and let Theon push up into it, swearing under his breath. Theon’s always foul-mouthed in bed, but tonight it’s like _fuck_ and _shit_ are the only words he knows; he lolls his head back and whispers them to the ceiling, curling his fingers around the scarves binding him to the bedposts. Robb loves how his lips frame those dirty words, how his voice trembles and catches. Some people would say _yes, yes_ ; some people would say _oh God_ ; some people would say _Robb_ , but if Theon did, Robb would know he was faking it. He loves hearing him swear, because he knows it means he’s doing something right. 

“You’re so hot, Theon,” Robb tells him, putting his lips to his ear. “I know you don’t think so, but it’s true. Nothing turns me on like seeing you this way.” To prove it, he grinds his hard cock against Theon’s hipbone. “I’d do anything to make you feel good. I don’t care if it’s my mouth, my cock, a vibe––I’ll give you whatever you want, for as long and as hard as you want it.”

He props himself up on one elbow, thumbs Theon’s mouth open, and kisses him. Theon doesn’t kiss back so much as moan into Robb’s mouth, a rich, deep sound that goes straight to Robb’s cock. “Are you going to come for me?” Robb asks. “Will you scream when you do?” He passes his fingers over one of Theon’s nipples, then stops to tweak it. “I want you to scream. I want you to scream so loud it scares the neighbors.”

Theon’s hips are pumping at an increasingly frantic clip, but he’s not swearing anymore. He’s just panting, his eyes still locked shut, tears pricking at their inner corners. “But maybe I shouldn’t let you come just yet,” Robb muses. “Maybe I’ll make you wait. Keep you on the edge, _almost_ there, until you beg me to––”

“Too late,” Theon chokes out, and comes.

Just the sight of it is almost enough to make Robb come with him. The way his back arches, the way his body shudders––the way he _cries out,_ Jesus. Forget scaring the neighbors, Robb thinks; he’ll have everyone in the building popping a boner.

The neighbors won’t see the look on his face, though. That’s all for Robb. His features freeze for a moment, a mask of pleasure, then relax as he comes down from his peak. Robb turns off the vibrator and tucks himself against Theon’s side. He waits, kissing Theon’s neck, for his chest to stop heaving, for his heartbeat to slow.

Robb taps Theon’s thigh with the head of the magic wand. “This thing’s plugged in, you know,” he says. “It won’t lose its charge.” 

“That so?” Theon says weakly.

When he comes for the third time that night, he’s flat-out sobbing, but he doesn’t use his safeword, and he smiles as Robb brushes the tears from his cheeks. Robb sits up to untie his wrists, issuing affirmations all the while: he’s good, he’s so good, Robb loves him so much. He asks if he’s okay, if he needs anything, and gets only a grunt in reply. He tries to get him up off the bed long enough to turn down the comforter, but it’s a lost cause. In the end he goes to the closet, gets out a spare blanket, and covers Theon with it. Lying on his side, eyes closed, Theon doesn’t acknowledge it. Maybe he’s already asleep.

Asleep, at night, in Robb’s bed. Wonders never cease.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb makes a new friend.

“Okay, how about these?”

Robb’s laptop is balanced on his knees, leaving room for Theon’s head in his lap. It can’t be easy to see the screen at that angle, but Theon makes do. “Nothing too...uh, realistic,” he says. “It would be weird.”

Robb reaches over him to touch the laptop’s trackpad. “What about this one?”

“Purple? With my complexion?”

Robb rolls his eyes and taps the trackpad again. “This one, then.”

“It’s got buckles. You know I’m shit with buckles.” Theon snorts. “‘C’mere, baby, I’m gonna fuck you senseless, but first will you help me put on my cock?’ That’s hot.”

“It’ll be hot if we’re doing it.”

Theon smiles and reaches up to pass his thumb over Robb’s lips. “Why don’t you pick? You’re the one who’s going to be taking it.”

Robb feels his neck reddening at the thought. “But it’ll belong to you. I want you to like it too.”

“Yeah, well,” Theon says, “I’m only going to like it so much.”

Did a shadow cross his face just now, or is Robb imagining things? He shuts his laptop and sets it on the couch beside him. “We don’t have to do this,” he says. “I mean it. Not if it’s going to bring up bad stuff, or if you’re not into it. I’m not going to make you do something that doesn’t do anything for you.”

To Robb’s surprise, Theon laughs. “This from the guy who tied me up and made me come my brains out with that fucking vibrator?” He sits up, and the next thing Robb knows he’s on his back with Theon on top of him, Theon’s ribs poking his chest through their shirts. Theon kisses him, light and sweet at first, then harder, filling Robb’s mouth with the wet heat of his tongue. When he breaks away, his lips are shining, and Robb is actually panting a little. “You,” Theon says, “making you feel good...it does _everything_ for me.”

––

When Theon fucked Robb for the first time, Theon was eighteen and Robb was sixteen, and his heart was pounding so hard Theon felt it as they kissed. _You sure about this?_ he said, pulling back to regard Robb with a furrowed brow.

Robb nodded, maybe a little too vigorously. _Yeah,_ he said. _Just nervous._

_Nervous?_ Theon made an incredulous face. _What, are you scared of my dick?_ He flicked his gaze down the length of their bodies, stretched out next to each other on Robb’s bed. When he looked back up at Robb, he was grinning. _He just wants to pay you a visit. Tea and cookies, that’s all._

Robb let out a snort of laughter. _There won’t be any tea or cookies where he’s going._

_No? And here I thought you had the sweetest ass in town._ Robb laughed again, and Theon undid his jeans. _I don’t mean you no ‘arm,_ he said, wiggling his soft cock at Robb like a cat toy. _I just wont’a be your friend. I’m so bloody lonesome I fink I’ll kill meself if I ‘afta spend anuva minute cooped up in this bloke’s unmentionables._

_Why does your dick have that accent?_ Robb spluttered.

Theon widened his eyes. _It’s a_ cock _ney accent. Obviously._

Robb laughed until he cried, and when he stopped laughing Theon thumbed away his tears and went back to kissing him. By then, he had forgotten all about being nervous. He let Theon fuck him and it was good, so good that Theon had to flip him over and drown his moans in a pillow to keep the rest of the Starks from cottoning on.

The thing is, Robb liked Theon’s cock. He liked the heft and thickness of it, the heady blood-heat of it, the way it sprang free so eagerly when he pushed down Theon’s briefs. So, the strap-on makes him feel kind of like a kid whose mom is getting remarried: _meet your new daddy, Robb._ It’s black and shiny and a little bit bigger than he remembers Theon’s cock being, though of course he would never point that out. He tells himself he’ll get used to it. It’s not as if he has any other choice. 

The harness has Velcro, which makes Theon happy, since he can get it on with minimal fumbling. He gives the silicone cock an experimental stroke, then looks up at Robb. “Is it weird?” His lips twist in a grimace. “It’s weird.”

“No,” Robb says. Of course it’s weird, but they both know that; he doesn’t need to say it out loud. 

He’s sitting on his bed, naked, his skin goosepimpled with anticipation. Theon climbs onto the bed beside him and starts to kiss him. It’s weird kissing with the strap-on between them, but not necessarily in a bad way; feeling it pressed against his stomach makes Robb’s cock twitch between his thighs. It’s been so long since he’s had a good hard fucking, and he realizes now how much he’s missed it.

Theon eases him onto his back and lowers his lips to his neck, sucking in one spot until Robb’s breath hitches, then moving on to another. There’ll be marks there tomorrow, and the knowledge has Robb’s cock hardening further. Long before they fucked for the first time, Theon was marking him. He’d put up a fight, complaining about the looks he’d get at school, but really, he loved it. He loved touching the bruises and thinking about the fire in Theon’s eyes, Theon’s clothed cock pulsing against his thigh. He loved knowing how much Theon _wanted_ him. 

The strap-on isn’t as responsive as Theon’s cock was, but the eyes, those are the same. They flash up at him as Theon’s tongue circles a nipple. When his mouth closes over it, Robb shivers and arches his back. “Ah, Theon…”

Now there are wet fingers stroking up and down his ass crack, and when did Theon get out the lube? One fingertip probes at Robb’s hole, making him clench instinctively. It really has been a long time. Theon is patient, though, pulling Robb’s leg up and around him so he can rub his cock against Theon’s hip, adding more and more lube until Robb’s ass feels like a Slip ‘N Slide. When he finally feels a finger inside him, it’s a stretch, but it doesn’t hurt.

From there, it’s not so hard for Theon to work a second finger in, and from there it’s not long before he finds Robb’s sweet spot. Robb draws a clipped breath and pushes his cock harder against Theon’s hip. He forgot how good it feels to be touched there, how the pleasure comes in waves, splashing over him one after the other until he’s completely overwhelmed. It’s like being drowned, but gently, lovingly, and he never wants to come up for air. 

Robb’s body swallows another of Theon’s fingers, almost without complaint. “Oh,” he gasps, “oh God.” It feels like so _much_ , so how can he still want more? He rocks down into Theon’s hand as Theon finger-fucks him, his own hands on Theon’s shoulders. Theon’s tongue is on Robb’s neck again, soothing the spots he was sucking before. His hair is soft against Robb’s cheek; it smells like Old Spice shampoo.

Just when Robb is thinking he’ll go mad with need, Theon pulls his fingers out. He gets up on his knees and hefts Robb’s legs onto his shoulders. He lubes up the strap-on, but to Robb’s frustration, he doesn’t put it _in_ ; he just drags the tip of it over Robb’s hole, making Robb groan helplessly. “Theon,” he says, “come _on._ ”

Theon grins. “Say it,” he says, and Robb probably deserves this, for threatening to edge Theon with the magic wand. He _didn’t,_ though, he talked about it but he didn’t, so doesn’t he deserve mercy, too? “Say what you want.”

“Fuck me,” Robb blurts out.

“Say it nicely.”

Robb shoves his hips in the direction of the strap-on. “Fuck me, _please._ ”

So Theon does. He slides the strap-on into Robb’s hole an inch at a time, and it’s slick and solid and _big_ ––it feels bigger than it looked, in the best possible way. Robb’s panting and sweating and Theon’s looking down at him, smiling a smile that’s equal parts honey and smoke. It’s a smile that says _I love you, and I’m going to wreck you._

Theon fucks Robb like he was born doing it, like he’s done it every day since. He stuffs him so full he can hardly bear it, so full he can barely breathe, but still the emptiness between thrusts is agony. Oh, he’s _ached_ for this, and now that he has it the ache is still there, because he knows it’ll be over too soon. He won’t last, not with the strap-on spearing him at just the right angle, making his cock throb and leak. He could tell Theon to ease up, but if he did he’d have to kill himself, so he just fists the bedclothes and throws back his head.

“Theon,” he says, “Theon, Theon,” and Theon bends over him, folding him in half. He kisses along Robb’s jaw, the light touch of his lips a stark contrast to the piston-quick pace of his thrusts. It’s so good, too good, and Robb’s a total mess, writhing and shaking and crying Theon’s name. Theon weaves his fingers through Robb’s hair and presses his lips to his forehead. A hot hand curls around Robb’s cock.

A few pumps later, Robb comes moaning, his cock spilling onto Theon’s fingers. Theon keeps moving, keeps fucking until Robb goes soft in his hand. If Robb were anything less than perfectly happy, he might think what a waste it is, that Theon can’t feel his body hugging the strap-on; he might think how much he’d like to have Theon’s come inside him, warm and wet, melting down his inner thighs. But he isn’t. So he doesn’t.

They’re both breathing hard, and it occurs to Robb that in Theon’s case, it’s probably not just from exertion. Robb scoots backward, giving a grunt of relief as his legs straighten. Then he pulls Theon back on top of him. He rolls them over, releases the straps on Theon’s harness, and buries his hands between his thighs.

Theon’s already wound tight, so it only takes a little bit to finish him. He shuts his eyes and bites his lip as Robb rubs his scar with two fingers, his other hand cradling his balls. When he comes, he makes no sound but an indrawn breath.

They lie there unspeaking, exhausted, come on their stomachs and hands. They ought to clean up, Robb thinks, and they’re only half under the comforter, but he’s quite comfortable the way he is. He’s halfway to being halfway asleep when Theon says, “Don’t think this is going to work every time.”

Robb blinks. “What? Don’t think what’s going to work?”

“You know. We have explosive sex, I fall asleep in your bed. You’re not that slick.”

“‘Explosive’?” Robb asks, grinning. “You really think you were that good?”

“Oh, I _know_ I was.”

“Then you’ll understand if I’m too weak to get off of you until morning.” Robb tugs the comforter over them, turns off the bedside lamp, and nestles his head on Theon’s shoulder. “‘Night, Theon.”

Theon makes a disgruntled noise in the dark. “You’re lucky I love you, you smug little prick.”

“Believe me,” Robb tells him, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote, folks. Hope you liked it!


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